Ignite
by Paperairplan-e
Summary: People come and go, at times we wished none of them would go. We needed them to stay, to mend to our hearts and wandering souls. She sustained life and innocence and yet, war had taken her away. Katniss witness the death of the one person she wished to see live a solemn life. Primrose Everdeen was a flower lite to ashes.


**Author's note**

Hello there my dazzling sparkly donuts!

Ok, I'll cut the crap short. I haven't been updating any of my stories due to work and school (yes, yes I just started school and I'm already swimming in a crap load of work, yeepee) and I feel awful about it since I left both stories on cliffhangers which is just bad taste.

During my summer vacation, since I got home stuck and working in Paris, I decided to read The Hunger Games trilogy and I loved it. I finished like each book within only a few days and I was craving for more. But, but... Ugh. No more to come. The ending of a book is always sad no matter what the ending is because it's when you realize each story has an end.

This fan fiction is just the assembly of Katniss' last thoughts as she saw Prim for the final time. My friend told me Katniss isn't out of character here, but I have my doubts. I can't really tell since Katniss and I seem to have so much in common. These were mostly how I felt when I was reading her final moment with her sister.

So please forgive me if I destroyed that moment. I warn you, this is short but I'm proud of it.

**The Hunger Games** belong to_** Suzanne Collins**_to whom, I send all my love.  
I do hope Peeta belonged to me, haha!

With love,

_Ina._

_EDIT: Went through some of the mistakes. I hope you'll find this a tad better. _

* * *

**_Ignite_**

_by paperairplan-e ffnet_

I run and yet, my feet aren't moving to the pace I order them to. Or maybe it's just the reality of things and I never really wanted to get too close. I knew what was going to happen, I anticipated it the minute I saw her there standing, helping those in need, those struggling. My breath is cut short and it comes to a point where I can't breathe any longer. It was as if time has stopped and it cruelly gave me once last chance to take glimpse at what this war would take away from me forever. It was the unscrupulous moment of time where the gods are obviously snickering, staring at you from the corner of their eye, if they were even up or down there to begin with.

The intense heat in my body was burning every inch of me to the bone or maybe even to the soul, but how could I feel any different? When one is evidently useless in a situation, where something has to be done despite the chances of prevailing are minimal, and can't seem to reach out to those they love… That is when you realize what failing is truly about. It isn't about not reaching your dreams. It's not about not being able to do what you're told in the most adequate ways. It's not about not being what society deems as a failure. But it is about letting others down, failing others and breaking those promises that you claimed to be sincere.

I was sincere, I swear I was. When I promised her that it'll be alright, when I told her that I'll try for her, when I told her that I'll never leave her side because she mine, she was part of me; I was sincere. The odds were never in my favor and what I see and fear is the very proof of that assumption. I've tried hard, I can't say it's my best since I can't put my finger on what exactly my best is, but I've tried to at least give myself, my thoughts, my strength as a whole to avoid any of this to happen. People have been dropping, falling, crumbling before my eyes and only one person seems to really blame for this. I would viciously point my finger at the man who smelled like roses, whose stench could bring the very death of my sanity. But if given personal thought, as I point that finger at him, he and the rest of the world would point it back at me for I am the Mockingjay. I am the rebellion at hand. I am Katniss Everdeen, victor of District 12, the seam girl with her bow and squirrels, the one who brought up the Nighlocks to the public's eyes. I am the spark that if left unattended, would give birth to unbearable flames. And I was, first and for most, her's.

As I reach out for her, calling out her name, repeating her name incessantly in my mind even if she couldn't hear it, I catch a glimpse of that familiar duck-tail. She was fragile; everything about her was fragile despite her indifferent expression when facing the wounded. Her golden strands swayed with the wind, her pale complexion shone bright in the middle of the dull environment and people, she shone bright amongst everything that surrounded her. Her blue eyes glimmered with naivety, courage, hope and fear as they caught mine. She was facing me and I was facing her. She stood there, alone, tired and helpless. Defenseless. I heard her small voice call out to me; I remember the sweetness it held as she would say _Katniss_.

But to her silent call, I was not able to answer. As tragedy fell from the sky, I saw her reflection within my own eyes. Innocence crept up her pale face, transforming into shock and immense fear. The impact was dramatic and rough, it was too late. It was just like the reaping, but this time the pain of losing her forever was the consequence of death calling her name. During those finals seconds, wishing that I would never have to face a blinded goodbye, the flames ignite eating every single petal. Primrose Everdeen, lit up to flames leaving the meadow of my heart infructuous and hallow.


End file.
